tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83867414238367794222018-03-06T11:48:05.727-05:00AficioNadaI Don't Know What I Don't Know...Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.comBlogger220125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-62096478681856045902013-07-29T16:39:00.002-04:002013-07-29T16:39:52.167-04:00This Is Where Friends Would Come In HandyHusband informed me this morning, as he was walking out the door, that he would be having dinner out tonight and so would be home late. "Okay," I said. On the outside.
An hour or so later, Eighth Grader to-be asked if she could sleep over a friend's house tonight. "Okay," I said. On the outside.
We all went our separate ways for the day - Eighth Grader to sports practice, me to work, Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-66930967076896161082013-07-14T16:04:00.004-04:002013-07-14T16:04:46.687-04:00I Can't Make This Stuff UpSomeone brought a dog to church yesterday. I'm still shaking my head.
There was a baptism being held of a biggish baby boy - you know, a baby, but not exactly a newborn - and the proud parents had assembled enough supportive family to fill three pews at the front of the church. There were two sets of grandparents, although the Grandmas sat separately from the Grandpas; a Godmother, clearly a Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-80712257880130216052013-05-15T14:47:00.001-04:002013-05-15T14:47:35.610-04:00They Shall Remain Nameless If They Know What's Good For ThemI noticed that I haven't talked about the Tornadoes in a while. That must have been nice for you, but it's over now.
So, Seventh Grader. Seventh Grader gets annoyed with me for not identifying her and her sister, Freshman, by name. Why don't I just use their names? she asks me. Why did I even bother giving them names if I just think of them by label? Well, Seventh Grader, because Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-53488511487677250642013-05-08T15:16:00.001-04:002013-05-08T15:16:19.951-04:00Keep out! Unless, you know, you don't feel like it.Our house borders a pond and a dam that belong to the town we live in. The pond is perfect for canoeing and kayaking, and the dam makes an attractive base for fishing or taking photographs or whatever one does on a dam. It's a beautiful setup and was a big selling feature for us when we bought the house.
While the pond and the dam are town property, the land leading up to said public outletsTresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-71454550532614420372013-04-03T14:40:00.003-04:002013-04-03T14:40:38.536-04:00Speaking of When the Cat DiesThe cat has not died. No worries. She continues to systematically destroy every nice thing that we own, and to inspire an ever-mounting sense of regret in Husband that he did not put his foot down when we merged our homes together about her tagging along.
He could have simply said there would be no room for her, since he was bringing enough furniture with him to take up all available space Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-88884682647707370902013-03-20T13:54:00.001-04:002013-03-20T13:54:34.720-04:00The Powers of ObservationI just finished reading a collection of essays by E.B. White and ended up feeling like a complete loser by the time I was done. Like a loser who has done nothing and seen nothing and been nowhere. Not that this was a high adventure collection; mostly it was observational stuff about New York, Maine, Florida. Birds and woodland creatures. A dachshund. He threw in a few misspent youth stories, justTresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-61908485138837652122013-02-18T10:25:00.001-05:002013-02-18T14:20:20.423-05:00Things Are Going Just As I Always Pictured ThemI think it's terrific how, as teenagers, we were encouraged to think we were the architects of our future. That's right, little Christina (I knew about ninety Christinas in my era), just work hard and dream big, and you can write your own ticket! The world is your oyster - well, yours and your husband Mike's (also ninety Michaels, they all seemed to be named Michael). Whatever you want to beTresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-13519565522715846942013-02-11T16:36:00.005-05:002013-02-11T16:36:54.500-05:00SnowMaGetMeOutofHereTwo feet of snow landed in these parts over the weekend. My facebook newsfeed is littered with updates from sick-in-the-head snow lovers frolicking - with sleds and skis and frisky, adventure-seeking dogs - in the special white hell outside my window. They find this fun, while I find myself at the absolute peak of cantankerous. The peak! I tell you. It isn't pretty.
But you know, to each Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-51361094648277731982013-01-20T17:36:00.000-05:002013-01-20T17:45:51.064-05:00Two More Weeks Til the Super BowlI've just finished reading The Elements of Style for fun. That should sufficiently catch us all up on the thrill ride that is my life since I last tended to my blog. No doubt the construction of that last sentence also makes clear that I could probably stand to read it again, and perhaps this time I should take notes. Or, I don't know, maybe that's just my grammar paranoia showing. Maybe the Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-13297671296001897842012-01-13T16:05:00.000-05:002012-01-13T16:05:39.928-05:00Winter. Rhymes With Splinter.It has finally snowed. The trees look pretty. Now if it can begin the melting process, life will be good.
I hate winter. ...I guess I don't need to sugarcoat it like that, after all we're probably all adults. If winter were a person, I would hire Casino-style gangsters to surround it and reduce it to bloody wreckage using blunt weapons. No need to even drag it out to the desert first. JustTresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-78529974888912401842011-12-27T09:28:00.000-05:002011-12-27T09:28:15.206-05:00Working From Home, or Reindeer Are UglyNow that we have achieved a safe rear view distance from the mayhem of the Christmas season, lovely and magical though it was, I can begin thinking clearly again. Due to the arduous demands of overspending online and wrapping mass-produced items in paper with friendly/adorable reindeer printed on it, trivial things like thinking clearly and eating leafy green vegetables are set aside between Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-17375186752796380572011-11-30T20:13:00.000-05:002011-11-30T20:13:07.585-05:00The Fifty-Seventh Happiest Place On Earth (Approximately)Last weekend, my Groom excitedly escorted me to his thirty year high school reunion. Here is where I pause, so as to recover from the multiple mind-blowing facts packed into that declarative sentence.
Anyway, we don't get out much these days. So preparing for this momentous evening entailed many wardrobe changes, hair adjustments, makeup applications, and checking of the profile in the mirror Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-44525318907667094112011-11-07T18:01:00.003-05:002011-11-07T19:24:06.173-05:00Only Sixteen Hundred Fifty-Six More DaysEighth grader is taxing the limits of my Motherosity, let me tell you. Taxing it like a gainfully employed middle class American. Like cigarettes in New York City. If this kid pushes down any harder on my buttons today, I might burst into a live reenactment of Willy Wonka's elevator. Motherosity is the word I use to describe the otherwise indescribable package of skills and characteristics Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-60178055714049372032011-10-24T07:32:00.005-04:002011-10-24T08:43:52.153-04:00Turn the PageIt seems incredibly unfair that it's practically the end of October again. Wasn't it just blazing hot and sticky outside? Weren't we just cooking burgers and dogs on the grill for lunch every day as if it were a dietary requirement?I just finished reading this really terrible novel, on the cover of which it was proclaimed to be a "killer beach read", and I distinctly remember buying it for Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-79506639946229129952011-06-08T05:33:00.004-04:002011-06-08T06:59:20.403-04:00Oh Boy?...Oh Boy?Oh, Blogosphere. Do you still exist? Allow me to catch you up on a few outstanding matters. After .8 years of living in our "new" home together, two things have transpired. First, the last of the contractors has finally gone home. All of the home improvements that we have elected, and can currently afford, to do have been done. No more buzzing saws, drills, dust, making way for Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-45775768799725879602011-03-26T16:48:00.002-04:002011-03-26T17:52:19.041-04:00Thoughts On How Not Hungry I AmFourteen days remaining until the big 4-0. I have managed to reduce myself by six of the eight pounds I am gunning for. Okay, five. It WAS six, but then there was the Chinese Food For Dinner Debacle last night...merely the logical follow-up to the buffalo chicken mac and cheese I had eaten for lunch. Which I then topped off with a cocktail, failing to use lower calorie juice as the mixer. Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-37359023022851704162011-03-10T12:40:00.003-05:002011-03-10T13:40:52.801-05:00Winning, Duh.What a fantastic week I have been having! Simply beyond my wildest dreams. Really, the wonderfulness of each day has just compounded the cumulative joy coursing through my veins. Clearly, I am winning.On Sunday morning, Future Husband and I managed to carve out a full two hours together. Seeing as I have barely laid eyes on him since that miraculous accomplishment, I remember those hours withTresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-24667382439536931092011-03-02T20:18:00.004-05:002011-03-02T20:58:10.547-05:00How Many Calories in Tiger Blood?This morning I made a regretful decision. For three months, I have adamantly refused to have anything at all to do with a scale; yet, at 6 a.m. today, for reasons unexplainable, I decided to prove how smart I am by finally stepping aboard.Oh, man. I am a big dummy.I think Charlie Sheen must be partially to blame for this misstep. Watching his flagrant dismissal of reality - and clear descent Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-21746443613652095222011-02-21T09:18:00.006-05:002011-02-22T10:38:02.038-05:00She Ain't Heavy. She's My GrandmouseFifth Grader has been pestering me for a dog since the dawn of time. I blame this on dogs, for acting all frolicky and cute when they belong to other people. Not to disparage dogs without cause, I'm just saying this has not been my experience when they reside with me.I have precisely two personal dog experiences to draw upon. The first was a Shepherd Collie mix that "belonged" to my little sisterTresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-38887921933599919992011-01-30T14:50:00.003-05:002011-01-30T15:09:57.551-05:00New York, New York. Except Not.A week ago yesterday, I was in New York City with the Tornadoes. It was Day Two of a three day trip which I had arranged months earlier as their "big" Christmas gift, and which began a week ago Friday with an excruciatingly slow bus ride in the middle of a blizzard.Aside from the prolonged commute, Day One played out pretty much exactly as I had been rehearsing it in my head for two months: Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-54598137047801905832011-01-12T08:29:00.005-05:002011-01-12T10:11:53.901-05:00There Are Plenty of Reasons to Envy MeYesterday was not the best day.In typical misleading fashion, it started out exhibiting best day attributes. Exhibit A: A successful five a.m. two mile run outside in twelve degree weather, and I didn't even die. Exhibit B: All of the laundry is clean AND put away. Pretty good start, yes? Then we had to wake up Seventh Grader.Oh, Seventh Grader.It never stops puzzling me how my wonderfully sweet Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-71288230114654041812011-01-04T17:57:00.002-05:002011-01-04T19:19:18.075-05:00I'm Thinking Epic. In a Baby Steps Kind of Way.Here we are again, at the start of a new year. No doubt the fitness centers are all overflowing with Resolutioners, and celery sticks are flying off the produce shelves at grocery stores nationwide. I don't think I've heard anyone utter a curse word within a ten mile radius over the past four days, and that is just truly disturbing, really. Thus, it pains me to confess that I am a card carryingTresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-41093478637049476472010-11-17T12:06:00.002-05:002010-11-17T13:09:47.060-05:00Me, Myself and IFifth Grader and I are hanging around the house together today. Eating a little mac and cheese. Watching a little "Hook". Your standard "Mama, I don't feel so good" kind of day. Fortunately, Fifth Grader is not feeling so unwell that she is retching into a toilet or burning up with fever - just your run of the mill headache/tummyache combination, coupled with the fact that 11 of the 24 Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-71881435999484221302010-10-28T09:31:00.007-04:002010-10-28T09:55:03.866-04:00An Open LetterDear Seventh Grader,You know that saying, "You're driving me crazy"? Seriously, I really think that you are. Driving me crazy. Look no further than this godforsaken twitch in my right eye. Did you see it just then? No? In fairness to you, I don't see how you could have noticed it, since I don't think you have actually looked me in the eye since your last birthday. But eye contact might be Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8386741423836779422.post-36610941817047112882010-10-21T21:10:00.004-04:002010-10-21T21:52:24.651-04:00Maybe the Leaflets are EmbroideredNow that the boxes are unpacked (for the most part) and the contractor is gone (though, interestingly, not finished with the job) and we have befriended our new neighbors (befriended might be an overstatement. More like welcomed all of their children into our home while seeing pretty close to nothing of the parents), I've determined that it's time to take a look around this new town of ours.My Tresshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00490428562354400570noreply@blogger.com1